


A Touch of Class

by dementedsiren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementedsiren/pseuds/dementedsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestranges bonding. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Class

Rabastan feels a hand take hold of the jeweled gold hoop dangling from his ear and he doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that it’s Rodolphus standing behind him. Their fingers intertwine over beads of garnet and smooth metallic loops before Rabastan digs a fingernail into his brother’s knuckle and pulls away.

“I couldn’t find mother’s pearls. I think she must have put them in Gringott’s after that party during last Christmas holiday.”

“I’m sure we can find our own way to get you a pearl necklace, Rabastan.”

Rabastan can feel Rodolphus' leer like it's a touch itself. He brushes his brother’s wandering hand off of his neck with an impatient sigh before reaching to pick up an embossed black tube from the vanity.

“Do you always have to be so crass?”

“Depends. Do you always have to be so pretentious?”

A smile quirks his lips, causing the deep red lipstick he’s applying to smear. Rabastan cleans the outline with his pinky and sucks the color off and into his mouth. It leaves a bitter, chalky taste on his tongue. Unfamiliar but somehow comforting.

“Why Rudy, I didn’t know you knew such big words. All that tutoring must be paying off.”

When he speaks his teeth scrape delicately over his fingertip. In the mirror Rabastan can see Rodolphus’ eyes linger there, where lip meets knuckle.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry. _Rodolphus_. I forgot, you have standards.”

Behind him, Rodolphus bends over to whisper in Rabastan’s ear. Watching, eyes glinting, Rabastan tries to imagine his reflection can’t feel the heat of his brother’s breath, that it’s immune, but he knows better. The sensation that shoots through him when rough lips tug on his ear, catching in the earring and pulling, is enough to warp glass.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. After all, I’m here with you…” The voice is soft, reptilian, and as kind as his brother ever is. Rabastan reaches for the blush brush with a smile. When he doesn’t speak, Rodolphus does.

“So, what's prompted this latest interest of yours? Getting in touch with your inner lady? Want me to have the sister I always wanted?”

“Why? You wouldn’t like fucking a sister nearly as much as you like fucking me.”

Hands rest steady and possessive on Rabastan’s shoulders. The pressure is odd, comforting even. Mouth suddenly dry, he reaches out for the tumbler of scotch on the dressing table. When he lifts it to take a drink, Rodolphus slips a hand down his chest, under the satin and lace, to scrape his nails hard across Rabastan’s skin.

The scotch spills, staining the dark rose fabric Rabastan's wearing the color of blood. He curses and moves forward to grab a towel, only to find himself pinned to the back of the chair. Sinking back into the grip, he lets his eyes slip closed because he doesn’t need to see to know that Rodolphus is moving, circling an arm around his neck and bringing lips to Rabastan’s own.

He leans forward for a kiss and finds only air.

“What?”

Opening his eyes, Rabastan finds his brother staring back at him in the mirror, behind him again, licking the last drops of scotch off his grinning lips.

“Rab, you are such a girl.”

“Am not.” It comes out petulant and the fact that he’s wearing a satin slip and earrings, his hair falling in curls down his back, doesn’t help his protest.

“You practically swooned.”

Muttering a denial under his breath, Rabastan jerks out of his brother’s grip and stands. To his left another mirror, full length in an antique wood frame, reflects them both back. Surprised, Rabastan moves towards it, one hand playing with a curl in his hair. He does look like a girl; he’s got no shoulders and a narrow waist, delicate features and slim fingers. For a moment Rabastan is utterly disgusted with himself. A look of loathing crosses his face and he pulls his wand , wanting to wipe the whole charade away. For once he doesn’t feel his brother move towards him; when he moves to cast the spell he finds his wrist trapped in a hand twice as large as his own.

“You’re not going to undo this without having a little fun first, are you?”

”Rudy, let me go. I’m done with this.”

“Like hell you are.” And again Rodolphus is whispering in his ear. It’s getting bloody annoying because it feels good and makes him want to listen and that’s never a good idea. “You look too damn pretty to go to waste.”

“Yeah, well you’re too damn ugly for me, then. Go away.”

Rabastan tries to pull away but only ends up wrapping himself deeper into Rodolphus’ embrace. One arm goes around his waist. The calluses on Rodolphus’ fingers catch on the soft material and drag it up Rabastan’s thighs until his ass is bare. Tired of the game, Rabastan looks up only to find his brother’s gaze is fixed behind him. Craning his neck around, he catches a glimpse of them in the mirror and sighs.

“I do look pretty, don’t I.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to leave me alone until I let you fuck me, are you?”

”No.”

“Typical.”

It’s easy to press himself into his brother’s chest. He's had years of practice and they fit, easily. By the time they end up on the bed, Rabastan is naked with the exception of the two beautiful, bejeweled, horribly expensive hoops in his ears. By the time they’re done, Rabastan has his very own pearl necklace.

He knows Rodolphus will be making jokes about this for months to come, each one convincing him more and more of his own wit, but, sated and covered only by his brother and his own lengthened hair, Rabastan finds it hard to care.


End file.
